How referee Janny Sikazwe defends his premature final whistle at the Africa Cup
Anyone who makes fun of Janny Sikazwe shows that they have no idea. Namely from the murderous temperatures that prevail on Cameroon’s Atlantic coast. It is no coincidence that the region is called “Africa’s armpit”. There, the coastline bends at right angles and the thermometer often rises to 40 degrees – with humidity of 85 percent. Sweat doesn’t drip there, it flows.
This was also the case when Tunisia and Mali met in the African Football Cup in the coastal town of Limbe. The match started at 2pm local time, which is a crime in itself, and lasted almost two halves and as many penalties (Mali converted theirs, Tunisia didn’t) in the relentless heat until the 85th minute. At this point referee Janny Sikazwe blew the whistle for the match, it was apparently the end of the game for him.
We now know that the referee saw his last hour come. “When we warmed up it was already clear that it couldn’t go well,” Sikazwe said on his return to Zambia: “We tried to drink, but the water didn’t quench our thirst. Everything I put on was unbearably hot. My spray can, the headphones and the whistle were burning from the heat, I wanted to throw them away.” But because referees are trained to “be like a soldier”, Sikazwe fought his way through. At least until the 85th minute, when he just had enough air for the two final whistles.
The Tunisians, however, wanted nothing to do with that. Trailing 1-0, they excitedly told the referee that they still had five minutes to equalize. Sikazwe let himself be broadened: The worst minutes of his life so far followed. “I’ve seen colleagues go abroad for a match and come back in a coffin. That’s how I imagined my return home.” His body didn’t cool down at all: “I was on the verge of a coma.” Then Sikazwe did what any sensible person in his situation would do: he blew the whistle again. This time there were only 17 seconds until the end of the 90 minutes – apart from the five minutes of added time.
The Tunisians’ reaction this time was even more heated. They pressed the referee’s boiling skin, and the coach even twisted his arm so he could take a look at his watch. But Janny Sikazwe was already in a rapturous state at this point: “I heard voices and noise, but I didn’t know where they came from.” that those responsible for the match had ordered overtime. Luckily for Sikazwe, the Tunisians didn’t want to either. They defiantly stayed in their cabin.
Hell continued for the Zambian in the days to come. The president of the African Football Association visited him and doctors examined him thoroughly, without finding anything serious. Eventually, the Tunisians’ protest was dismissed and Janny Sikazwe was allowed to return to his cooler homeland. There he greeted his family and “the Zambian people” with the words: “You are lucky that you can still talk to me. It could have been a lot worse.”
So-called football pundits vilified Sikazwe’s performance as “one of the worst refereeing performances in history” (British Sportsmail). But the hero of Limbe is not deterred: “Let them talk,” he says: “We thank God that we are still alive.”
